


The Loving Tom

by Wolfscub



Category: British Actor RPF, actor tom hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Light D/s, Romance, Spanking, dominant Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1515905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfscub/pseuds/Wolfscub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom's beloved wife ignores him at a party, although she knows how much trouble that's going to get her into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Loving Tom

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-off, romantic, fluffy, light D/s, spanking piece.

 

Their eyes collided across the crowded room; Tom standing in front of a very rich little old lady who had had a hand in organizing the event but looking over her garishly dyed hair as she was speaking to scan the crowd for her. They weren't apart much, and he liked it that way. Often at things like this, they sought each other out from wherever they were, many times during the evening, exchanging glances that said things like, "Come rescue me - he's describing how to gut a fish again!" or "Dear God, I want you right now, this very minute! Coatroom?"

It had taken him a minute to find her, but then it always did. She was surrounded by a gaggle of what were clearly admirers, not that she'd see it that way, the majority of whom were men. It was her tinkling laugh that gave her away and he had become an expert at discerning it from among all of the ambient noise inherent at a party or - what had she called it - a funny American term he'd never heard before - "shindig" like this.

Then he noticed that Luke was among her ardent admirers and he relaxed almost imperceptibly, knowing that, if he couldn't be with her all of the time - and he couldn't at something like this since the idea was always to get as many people talking to the upper crust as possible in order to get them to open their wallets for whatever charity was being supported - that Luke was almost as watchful and doting towards her as he was when it came to his Mia.

He saw her touch the younger man then - like she did, occasionally, to emphasize her point - those slim, elegant fingers landing on his forearm as she leaned forward and said something that made everyone around her laugh again.

Unexpectedly, he went so unbelievably rock hard watching her radiant smile that he thought he was going to unman himself right there and then. Luckily he had a program he could use as the shield he so desperately needed to cover the vulgar display his genitals were making.

As he watched avidly, the crowd around her began to dissolve away from her and shift to Luke, who was another of its organizers who simply stood by with his hand out as everyone she'd just enchanted practically handed him a blank check. Tom knew the feeling well - he'd struggled with wanting to give her anything and everything he thought she should have simply because she never asked for anything from him but that he give to her of himself - his time, his love, and his attention, which he always assured her she had as completely as he could manage - but he wanted to give her so much more.

She could have wrapped him around her little finger and squeezed, bleeding him dry in every possible way a woman could a man, but instead her rock steady support and fierce belief in him had made him feel freer than he had ever been before within the undeniable absolution that was Mia and her unconditional love for him.

Even now that they were married - something he'd been working towards since the night he'd met her - she refused to accept gifts from him that she deemed extravagant. He'd tried to give her a car like his - theirs, he corrected himself ruthlessly - but she refused, saying she preferred to ride the tube or have him drive her, that it was better for the environment, anyway, to have one less car on the road and that when he drove her places - besides the fact that he made a most fetching chauffeur - she got extra time with him and that she wanted as much of that as she could get.

How could he refuse her anything when she said things like that as she looked up at him with the pure, perfect evidence of the depths and truth of her feelings for him always displayed there, in those bright hazel eyes, for anyone to see? It only made him want to give her that much more, to exhaust himself loving and protecting her, to smooth her way in the life they made together as much as it was possible for him to, despite her occasional soft objections to the lengths he sometimes went to to make sure she encountered as few bumps in her happiness as he could bear.

She made him feel as if he could conquer the world any day of the week that he decided to and twice on Sundays. She made him a better person over all - actor, son, friend - and husband, he sincerely hoped.

His heart swelled in his throat at least as impressively as his southern parts did in his pants; he found it hard to breathe around the way it was uncomfortably lodged there. He couldn't physically manage to take his eyes off her, could barely believe the fact that she was his, but of that he had absolutely no doubt, although the almost feral, gut level possessiveness she'd inspired in him from the very first hadn't diminished in the least despite his sure knowledge of and faith in her. Indeed it had increased exponentially the more he knew her because she became just that much dearer to him.

Because he was so careful of her, so attentive, and yet could be almost aggressively passionate with her on occasion - bending the usual headstrong eagerness with which she had always matched him with her own sexuality firmly but gently until he she gave herself over to him completely in a surrender that touched him so deeply on so many levels that he could barely comprehend the amount of trust and devotion she showed him at every turn. The exquisitely intimate connection they had at those times - unbelievably even deeper than the one that had already existed between them - always seemed to heighten both of their pleasures to an almost intolerable level, to which she responded helplessly, blossoming beneath him - his hands or lips or his ever-seeking cock - like a flower turning towards the sun. 

They had discussed Tom being dominant with her, turning what had begun as a component of their intimate play into a lifestyle, and he had only just begun to wrest the reins of control away from her, forcing her to his will when it was an issue he thought was important enough that he wasn't willing to discuss or compromise with her about as they usually did - her tendency to eat very little being the first issue he'd tackled. And he knew that those were the times when she had nearly passed out in his arms from the power of what his ministrations had wrought within her body and mind, indulging his own penchant for taking things slow, teasing her mercilessly until he decided the time was right to force her to visibly shatter in his arms while having made sure in no uncertain terms, at the same time, that she realized beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was very serious about whatever new rule he had made for her.

He had been mightily encouraged by her demeanor for days after each time he'd taken her in hand, the usual bow-taut tension with which she lived apparently vanquished. With only a very few judicious rules in place, she was sleeping and eating better, and seemed much more relaxed than he'd ever seen her, as if he'd lifted a heavy burden from those delicate shoulders.

But they weren't in bed now. They were at a charity event, each of them dressed to the nines. Tom was in a beautiful tux with a velvet jacket that drew her hands to his chest every time she got within touching distance which was one of the reasons he'd worn it. Mia was in a beautiful, vintage - as she preferred - tea length dress that had been dyed the perfect shade of pink to highlight her lustrous skin and match the pearl necklace and earrings he had given her the night he had proposed to her, in lieu of a ring that he wanted to shop for with her. Its lacy, scalloped neckline hid more than it revealed, although it also hugged what he - and no one else - knew were her unfettered breasts lovingly at the same time and flared out to a flirty, full skirt that he knew she had had shortened a bit to highlight those gorgeous stems of hers.

She was at the opposite end of the room from him, and he couldn't keep his eyes off her, although he knew he should have been paying attention to what the organizer of the event was trying to say to him as she blathered on.

In order to be able to continue to gawk at his woman uninterrupted, he turn that million watt smile on the poor defenseless older woman and simply said, "Yes," nodding politely and saying, "Excuse me, please, darling," and walking away to a more covert location, from which he had a bird's eye view of his beloved. He didn't much care if he'd just agreed to juggle chainsaws naked on stage at Wembley; his wife - and it seemed no matter how long they were married, he would never fail to be thrilled to the tips of his toes that he could actually call her that - was on the move, circulating and delighting every person she came in contact with - especially the men, which had him frowning slightly - not because he doubted her fidelity - he had never and would never - but rather because he knew she had absolutely no idea that anyone - even him, really, even to this day, despite the more than ample evidence he had given her of how much of a slave he was to his desire for her - lusted after her. 

She just didn't see herself that way - didn't see how everyone she met found it so easy to talk to her because she was so warm and open, how she could coax a smile - as well as a generous contribution - from even the sourest old codger, or how people tended to seek her out at these things - which were usually a dreadful bore - because they knew she could make them laugh. Mia remembered - even better than he did - the names of their spouses and their children as well as tidbits of personal information - like whether someone's child was having a rough time of some sort or whether they'd recently been married or divorced - that never failed to convey to the person she was speaking to just how much she cared.

As if her ears were burning just from him thinking about her, that head of long golden waves had come up and begun to actively search for him, although nothing about what she was doing would be apparent to the person she was standing in front of - she was that good, that subtle, in her movements. Tom did nothing to aid her in her efforts but simply watched and waited until their eyes collided as they had - like an extremely intimate physical touch - across the floor, standing, as they were, in the opposite corners of the room - him by the door, she near the buffet table. She excused herself immediately and slowly began to work her way towards him, but was stopped every few feet and wasn't making much progress because she was much too polite to beg off rather than chat a bit.

Her eyes continued to seek his and he gave her a gentle smile, receiving one of her own back for his efforts, but then he winked at her, leering outrageously as he did so, his reward another tinkling giggle that pushed him that much closer to losing control of himself entirely, here, in front of half the peers of the realm. He adored how girlish she was with him, how flustered she still got whenever he complimented her, blushing and nearly hiding from his praise, most often deflecting it right back to him.

Out of the side of his gaze, he could see Luke coming towards her, full of purpose as always, probably with another fish on the line that he wanted Mia to reel in. But he'd have to find someone else to land that one - Luke was on his own, as far as Tom was concerned.

He was going to have his wife - beneath him, writhing in the ecstasy that only he could bring to her - as soon as was humanly possible - most probably in the limo that would take them back home to where he would claim her again, more slowly and thoroughly and with deliberate, exacting attention to her pleasure.

When next her eyes sought his out, he gave her a look he knew she recognized - chin down, brows drawn together - the one that screamed, "I'm going to fuck you until you cum so hard you faint" - slowly raising his hand to crook his finger at her. He saw to it that there was absolutely no mistaking his intent.

He saw the smile that he had put there slowly crumble in the face of the heat he was inspiring in her, saw her breath quicken as she began to worry her lower lip - wishing it was his she was nibbling - and shuffle her feet in those impossibly high heels, knowing that that was a sure sign that her panties were being moistened under his very gaze, which had him swallowing hard.

But then she turned around abruptly, presenting him with her back and greeting Luke warmly, in blatant defiance of - and never even having acknowledged - his silent command.

The moment he saw the zipper that ran down the back of her dress, the one he'd pulled up for her mere hours ago when he would much rather have pulled it in the opposite direction, Tom began to move towards her, determination in every step. He skirted the fringes of the crowd, knowing he'd make more progress by taking the long way around, expertly deflecting the comments and invitations that came his way as he skirted stubborn clutches of people, dodged waiters and waitresses with trays of very expensive champagne, and even twirled one autograph seeking granny around gently as if they were in the middle of a waltz before setting her free with a quick scribble on a head shot - still managing to bewitch her entirely. As he got closer to his target, he reached down to button the jacket of his tux, adjusted his bow tie and prepared to claim his woman - in whatever fashion she made it necessary for him to do so so that they ended up in their car, on their way home, with her definitely getting spanked across his lap, within the next five minutes or so.

He was entirely unwilling to wait even one minute longer.

He had caught Luke's eye, who had practically jumped back at the look Tom gave him and began to beg off into the crowd, not much wanting to be a witness to whatever Tom seemed bound and determined to do to his wife in front of a room full of eager witnesses.

With Luke having deserted her abruptly for some strange reason - in the middle of begging her to help him pry open a notorious tightwad's purse, no less - Mia decided to be brave and turn back around to see just how Tom was reacting to her move, but when she did, she couldn’t find him. He wasn't where he had been less than a minute ago, she swore. A quick survey of the crowd - in which he was usually easy to spot since he was generally the tallest person in the room at any given time as well as the only one with those luscious golden curls atop his head - yielded nothing but a sea of carefully coiffed hairdos and the odd, truly atrocious hat.

Figuring he'd turn up eventually, she perused the buffet table, although nothing inspired her finicky appetite in the least.

Nothing there did, anyway.

When he suddenly materialized at her elbow, though, it was another matter entirely, and her entire body hummed to life simply because of the fact of his proximity to her. That was all it took to get her going - just him anywhere near her.

Her welcoming smile faded quickly though - as well as her impulse to throw herself into his arms, knowing that was a harbor in which she would always be safe - at the look in his eyes. And the way he greeted her didn't help the way her heart sank to her feet and her hands began trembling, either. His whispered words held no trace of anger in the least - but were rife with carefully controlled desire as he bent down so that his gaze was level with hers. "Come with me right now, little girl, or I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out."

Tom leaned back away from her and unbent his impressive frame, keeping her eyes locked with his as she stared, dumbfounded, up at him.

One word, softly spoken. "One."

Mia's eyes widened to the point of discomfort. Dear God, he was counting at her as if she was a misbehaving child! "But Tom, there are fans and photographers outside -"

That eyebrow of his rose and he shrugged. "It'll just give the internet something more to talk about," which gave her the distinct, disconcerting feeling that she didn't want to hear him finish his count - "Two."

Belatedly beginning to back away from him, Mia said, "Tom, you can't be serious -"

It was the exact wrong thing to say to him. She should have know by the look on his face that he wasn't teasing; that he wasn't going to give her a "two and a quarter" count or even just a "two and a half" to give her more chances to decide to obey him.

No, he wasn't going to allow himself to be diverted like that.

She barely heard him say "Three," but she knew he did because she spoke desperately over him. "Okay, let's go -"

But it was too late to stop him.

Much too late.

Tom was vigilantly preparing for an audition for the part of Thor and he had very carefully set about adding layers of muscle - and thus weight - to his usually lithe form. Mia adored it, although she had carefully kept her opinions to herself, not wanting him to think she wasn't attracted to his usual leanness because nothing could have been further from the truth.

But she would have sworn that with each pound of muscle, it seemed as if he added a big boost of dominance - not the aggression or anger that would have signaled steroid use; he would never do anything like that that would endanger his health - but a tweak to his naturally confident, watchful nature, especially when it came to how he interacted with her.

Mia's hands were already extended towards him, trying to placate him, and he used that to his advantage, grabbing her right hand and tugging her sharply towards him, lowering his right shoulder so that, as she began to fall towards him, he caught her at her midsection with a delicate "oof", quickly moving forward and lifting at the same time, completely oblivious to the startled gasps that arose from the people nearest them, which spread like wildfire throughout the big room so that all eyes quickly turned to them as he strode towards the door with his delicious burden.

Mia wasn't docile, although she was cognizant of the length of her skirt and not wanting to reveal any more of her body than she had to to the crowd, so her legs kicked much less fervently than they would have if he had done this to her in their apartment. And they stopped entirely when he reached up and delivered a hearty wallop to her backside, which was entirely vulnerable to him, after which he settled her into place on his broad shoulder, clamping an arm around the legs that were dangling enticingly down over his chest, easily rendering her helpless as he stalked towards the door with those huge strides of his.

He stopped only once - right in front of the two chairs for the event, a wonderful and probably completely scandalized older couple - to thank them quite sincerely for such a lovely time, as if he didn't have his wife draped over his shoulder like a Highlander's sash - although by the time he got through with her this evening her behind was going to match or beat some of the reds in various tartans. 

Then he did the unthinkable and turned around so that her head was pointed towards them, saying, "Honey, say thank you to our hosts," in a tone that brooked no disobedience.

Mia couldn't see a thing with all of that hair falling into her eyes, and considering how mortified she was, she was that glad of it. For long beats she didn't say anything, nor did Tom move so much as a muscle.

Finally, she murmured softly, borrowing his words because she truly had none in her head, "Thank you for such a lovely time," because it seemed he was going to stand there all night until she did as he asked, or worse - much, much worse - he would reach up and swat her behind again. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was nothing and no one that could stop him from doing exactly that again any time he wanted to.

As soon as she complied, he began moving again, taking the marble steps to the door two at a time without so much as drawing a single labored breath. Instead of heading directly out the front doors as they usually would so that he could pose for pictures, talk to fans and sign autographs, he executed a right turn and came out a different door from the one they'd come in.

"Can I help you, Sir?" she heard someone ask him, groaning in embarrassment but unwilling to move much - even to try to escape - lest he exact more painfully humiliating retribution in front of another stranger.

"Yes, if you would, please. Could you send a gentleman from valet service to fetch our limo? I'd really appreciate it if we could be picked up at this door, too. Thank you very much."

He didn't put her down on her own feet again until their chauffeur had opened the car door for him, and even then her feet only touched the ground for mere seconds before he got her safely ensconced in the car and followed her in.

Mia tried to move away from him, but Tom wasn't going to allow her to do that, clamping her to his side and tipping her chin up as he brushed the hair out of her eyes and kissed her passionately, leaving her wanting more - much, much more - despite herself. She tried to stoke the fire of her outrage at his high handedness, but now that they were alone, she was finding it downright impossible to concentrate on anything except the insistent throbbing between her legs that was a direct result of what he'd done and who - and what - he was becoming to her.

She had thought it might be a quiet ride home - that he was angry with her for her little act of defiance back there - but it seemed a rare instance where she'd read him wrong. Instead, he lifted her onto his lap, as if having her plastered to his side just wasn't enough - or perhaps intimate enough - contact for him.

His finger traced the pretty scalloping at her collarbone; his touch hot on her skin. ""You were the most beautiful, the most elegant and the sexiest woman there tonight, as you are always to me. Did you know that, my dearest love?"

Mia's face flushed in what she knew was an unbecoming manner, although he always seemed so taken with her blushes she knew he didn't see the flaws she did when he looked at her. "Tom, stop -"

"No," he whispered, nibbling at an earlobe, then pressing a velvety butterfly kiss to her lips, as if he was afraid they'd fall apart if he applied too much pressure. "I'll never stop telling you how wonderful you are, Mrs. Hiddleston, or how proud and honored I am that I get to take you home with me at night."

She was blushing so hard it actually hurt. "Thank you, Tom. I feel -"

She found a finger pressed over the lips he had just kissed. "No, stop. You don't always have to compliment me back. I have tons of people telling me how wonderful I am all the time. I think you've prolly only got me and I don't tell you nearly often enough, sweetheart." He brought the hand that he'd been holding up to his lips to kiss the back, then turned it so he could tongue her palm teasingly, insistently.

Mia tried to reclaim her hand, but he tsked loudly at her, forcing her to look him in the eye with a finger beneath her chin as he scolded firmly, "You've already got one spanking coming. Do you want to earn a second?"

She shook her head vehemently as his mouth found hers, bending her back over his arm, the dramatic arch of her body pressing her breasts against the material of her dress. As if he'd read her mind, Tom reached behind her and dragged the zipper slowly down, tugging the front of her dress away from her body as if he was peeling a fragile petal from a rosebud, his eyes devouring every creamy inch of her, particularly enjoying the way her pretty breasts were set off by the pearls at her neck.

"Oh, my darling," he breathed against a nipple as he mouthed it almost roughly, razing it with his teeth then strongly suckling that ache away in favor of building another kind entirely.

"Tom - I - "

He knew that tone of voice, those ragged breaths. She was amazingly close, but he didn't let that deter him.

"Oh, God, Tom, please -"

He had told her a few weeks ago - when he was finally sliding into her after a long, lazy, delicious afternoon of teasing - that she wasn't allowed to pleasure herself at all any more without his permission, nor was she allowed to find her release without it, no matter what he did to her.

"No, baby, I'm sorry," he breathed, sounding sincerely apologetic, "but you are not to cum until after you've been punished. This is just for me - I love to hear your sighs and moans when I touch you."

She was smart enough not to try to act as if she didn't know why he was going to spank her, but she did groan in protest against his edict, especially since he continued to tease and lightly torture her nipples as they hardened and rose even further from his warm, wet attentions.

Suddenly she slipped away from him - a move he hadn't been anticipating since she had been melting in his arms so beautifully a second before - to sit on the floor of the limo between those long legs of his, which were spread wide as always. She liked their length surrounding her almost as much as his long arms around her, feeling as if he created a home for her within his boundaries where no one else could touch her.

She tucked her legs beneath her, sitting on her heels, hoping the submissive position would please him. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her, head bent forward as if he was going to tackle her again, breath unsteady and loud in the small confines of the car.

Mia leaned boldly into him, placing a hand on each knee at first, then, as she watched him watching her, she bit her lip and let each drift to the inside of his thighs, following that muscular line with her hands and her body, up to the clearly defined bulge where they met. He was more than large enough even now that he easily filled both of her hands to overflowing.

She cupped and rubbed him gently, thoroughly enjoying the way her small hands could disrupt this big man's breathing, bringing forth low, guttural groans that sounded more like growls. She could feel him growing beneath her touch, feel him twitch when she rubbed the clear outline of the very tip of him.

"Please, Tom, may I?" she asked, looking up at him sweetly for permission to do to him what he would not do to her, even though she knew she had a spanking coming.

A ragged breath exploded out of him at her request as he captured her chin, using it to tug her into a kiss that shattered the careful reserve she'd built up while seeing to him. Satisfied at the naked lust he saw on her pretty face when he withdrew, he sat back again, feeling like a king with a concubine with her in that position between his legs.

"You may, my darling wife," he rasped.

She had him freed and in her eager mouth within seconds, taking the whole of his length in one deep effort, so that he more than hit the back of her throat, consciously relaxing herself so that he could do just that.

Her reward was a truly feral groan that had her quivering visibly in response. His eyes settled on her as his legs closed her in as best they could, those big hands reaching down to cup her delectably bare breasts as she began to slide him with infinite care out of her mouth, suckling so hard at him that it was indeed a very long process, and then repeating exactly what she had already done until he began to shudder beneath her.

With a soft chuckle, she covered his cock with her palm, stroking languidly, and devoured his balls, taking each of them into her mouth and swirling it with her tongue, then licking and nibbling them avidly before moving to feather her tongue up the gentle curve of him, suckling occasionally along the way as a frustrated blast of air left his lungs and his hips arched, seeking more of her warmth.

When she parted her lips over him again, pursing them so that the fit was excruciatingly tight, she didn’t forget the rest of him, reaching down to cup his balls with one hand as she rode him, using the other to snake under his tight dress shirt and flick his nipples.

It was too much for him - he couldn't control himself any longer. Tom buried his fingers in that soft, sensuous hair, cupping the back of her head and using his hold to guide her, not that he needed to - she nearly killed him when she did this to him, every single time - but it added to it for him to have his hand on her possessively when he lost the battle against holding himself back and gave over to the paradise only she could bring him.

The first spasm had him only partially successful at suppressing what would have sounded like an agonized cry as he spilled himself against the back of her throat and she swallowed him eagerly, continuing to suck just as hard as he shot load after load until he was absolutely spent, teeth tingling, brain useless, completely at her mercy and knowing he could be in no better hands than her small ones.

She wiped the corners of her mouth delicately and tucked him away, rearranging him so that no one would be the wiser when they exited the car, then came to sit on her legs beside him, which gave her the height she needed to cradle his head to her shoulder as she wrapped him up in her arms as best she could, brushing the bright curls away from his moist temples, and rocking them both just slightly.

"I'm well and truly undone," he confessed quietly after a long while, voice hoarse from the cries she'd wrenched from him.

"Perfect. I'm glad." Mia pressed a kiss to his temple.

He sighed on a small smile, content to let her hold and comfort him in moments like this when it was more usually the other way around. She was always happy when she left him so devastated that he couldn't put two coherent words together. She thought he thought entirely too much, and enjoyed knocking the sense of out him in her own inimitable fashion.

 

 

They arrived not long after he did, having pulled around to a back entrance to the building so as to minimize the paparazzi. In fact, there was no one there at all when they got there. Tom exited first, turning around immediately to offer her his hand, tipping the driver extravagantly for his discretion and guiding her up to their flat with a hand on the small of her back that had a distinct tendency to wander lower when he was sure they couldn't be seen.

After securing the locks behind them, he leaned back against the door where he got a wonderful view of his wife amidst her evening ablutions. She sat at her small vanity first, removing her jewelry and putting it safely away and brushing her hair back into a neater state from how it had become disheveled while she was being bodily carried off by her husband. 

She stood in front of their closet, reaching awkwardly up behind her to tug the zipper of her dress down yet again, this time for good for the night, she hoped, but she soon found her hands brushed aside in favor of her husband's sure ones as he stood distractingly close behind her to murmur, "Allow me to play lady's maid, beloved." He wasn't asking, she knew, not that she minded in the least. He always took such extraordinary care of her, how could she possibly mind?

Tom dropped a lingering kiss on her bare shoulder as he slid the beautiful dress down her body, holding her hand as she stepped out of it in a gallant but wholly unnecessary gesture that exemplified the unselfconscious reverence with which he always treated her.

Knowing she would want him to, he left her momentarily to hang the dress up on her side of their wardrobe, returning to bend a knee gracefully before her, his strong, steady hand reaching for each slim calf to remove the heels that looked sensational on, but that he knew were killing her, giving each tiny foot a quick rub, promising with a soft smile as he gazed up at her adoringly, "I'll give you a thorough foot rub later, after your spanking - maybe tomorrow, depending . . ."

He always did things like that for her, unasked. He knew that if she hadn't been involved with him she would have spent the night at home, comfortably ensconced in sweats and a disreputable t-shirt, reading a good book or eating in front of the television while watching _Game of Thrones_. She did all of this - even to the point of physical discomfort, dolling herself up, putting herself out there in front of the public - for him and him alone, and it humbled him every time he thought about all of the things like this that she did that made his life so much easier.

He only hoped he made her feel as wonderful and special and unreservedly adored as she did him.

Him mentioning what she knew was going to happen to her between now and then had her biting her lip and looking uncertain. Part of Tom wanted to relent about her punishment but he knew that that would not be a good thing for either of them, in the end.

He stood then, while she was still in her stockings and panties and drew her to him, knowing she would appreciate the reassurance. "I love you, you know, my Mia."

She could feel his words vibrating through his chest and into her ear. "Nowhere near as much as I love you, Mr. Hiddleston."

He chuckled, enjoying the feel of her in his arms for a long moment, then putting her a bit away from him to finish his delightful task, squatting down beside her as he peeled her hose down her legs. Mia reached out to steady herself on his muscular shoulders as he removed them from each foot, then dispensed with her panties, too.

"Delicates bag?" he asked, holding them both up.

"Yes, please," she nodded, and he put them into their proper place, returning to stand there in front of her for a long beat, his eyes raking over her nudity and making her blush prettily. Then, with a gently amused smile at her embarrassment, he caught her around the waist and guided her onto his knee as he sat on the end of their bed.

"How much do you think you earned for UNICEF tonight, dollin'?" he asked, using her backwoods New England way of pronouncing "darling" as he brushed his fingers absently through he hair.

"At least fifty, I'd say."

"Wow - I think I got about twenty five." They never referred to it, but they were speaking about thousands, not just twenty five or fifty dollars.

She couldn't suppress the urge to say, "I would have had more if -" But she stopped, not wanting to proceed any further and remind him of what she already knew was on his mind, as if not mentioning it might protect her from it, somehow, causing him some sort of selective amnesia; she didn't know. Something that would save her ass from what she knew was going to be happening to it in an alarmingly short amount of time.

Tom pressed his forehead to hers, his tone in concert with the gentleness of the hand that rubbed slow circles on her back. "You are my everything, lovely. I hope you know that and can really hear it in your heart." His other hand came up to place his palm over her sternum.

Although there was nothing overtly sexual about his touch, Mia was finding that with this new level of intimacy in their relationship, everything was sexually charged, and her nipples peaked immediately at the proximity of a hand they knew they would revel in the touch of, if he would just move it slightly to the left or right . . .

But he didn't.

Mia nodded fervently. "I do. Believe me, I do."

He kissed her forehead, then cupped her jaw to hold her so that she had to look into those devastating blue eyes. She nearly began to cry just at the disappointment she saw there and also reflected in his voice, although she knew he was keeping it relatively mild, because he knew how much she hated to disappoint him. "I know this is new for the both of us - your submission to me - and it means a tremendous amount to me. I can't even articulate just how much and you know how I love words. But there was no way you could have mistaken my meaning when I crooked my finger at you, was there?"

She knew he expected - and deserved - an honest answer, which was the only kind she would ever give him. "No, Sir."

He would have sworn it wasn't at all possible this soon again, but the part of him that was most hers came to attention at her use of that deferential term with him. Until then, he'd told her that that wasn't at all necessary - he shied away from the idea of using words like that that he thought would sound artificial to his ear. He might be her dominant, but he didn't like the idea at all that he was in any way better than her because of it.

But he was wrong - it was anything but that, at least from her lips to his ear. It didn't sound contrived or forced in any way but rolled naturally from her tongue.

"So you knew that I wanted you to come to me, yet you turned away from me. Why?" He liked to understand her motivations for what she did, to understand the workings of that complicated, interesting mind of hers. What she said would neither decrease nor increase her punishment - it would just help him in the future to guide her more wisely, he hoped.

Mia shrugged. "I don't know. I just . . . wanted to. To prove my independence, I guess. To show you that I don't have to do what you want me to if I don't want to."

He hugged her tight. "I appreciate your honesty, love. I never want you to feel as if you have to hide anything from me - your feelings or what you're thinking. There's truly nothing we can't talk about and, in this type of situation, communication is an absolute must."

"I know."

After a butter soft kiss to those pouting lips, he deliberately met her eyes. "And are you sure you still want to obey me, knowing that I'm going to be strict with you because I think it's the best thing for you, and that you're going to be punished every time you don't do as I say?"

Without a second of hesitation, he heard her soft, "Yes, Sir."

"And you know I love and adore you whether or not this is a part of our lives?"

Mia couldn't stop herself from throwing her arms around his neck. "Yes, Sir, but -"

She stopped mid-sentence and he cupped the golden waves at the back of her head. "What is it, sweetie?"

"Do you - do you want this to be a part of our lives, too? You have to do all the work -"

He chuckled softly. "I may have been tentative about it at first, Mia, as you might have noticed, but the more we put it into practice, the better for us I think it is."

She relaxed against him, just slightly, and he knew that she had been worrying - silently, quietly to herself - about it.

He cleared his throat and she knew that their discussion was over. "Now, my darling, I'm afraid I need to ask you to fetch your hairbrush."

Tom saw Mia's eyes widen. He hadn't used anything on her but his hand up until now, and that was plenty bad enough. Apparently this was much more of a transgression than she'd bargained for.

She slid off his knee - his legs were so long that when she sat atop them her feet didn't touch the ground - and crossed to her vanity, wishing she thought she could get away with pretending she couldn’t find it, but dammit if she hadn't already brushed her hair right in front of him this evening - what was she thinking?!

There was no hope for it, and she knew that he didn't like to be kept waiting, so she grabbed it and brought it back to him. It was, in essence, a paddle, with a broad, flat wooden head, prettied up with pink roses painted on the side that was going to hurt her the most.

Tom arranged himself back further on the bed, so that she had the bed as well as his legs to lie over, patting his lap firmly once he took the implement from her.

"Over my lap, little one. Let's get this over with."

He heard her issue one dejected whimper before she did as she was told.

"Good girl." He hooked the heel of one of his still dress shoed feet onto the top of the bed frame, which raised his leg somewhat beneath her and with it her behind, forcing it into exaggerated prominence. Then he resolutely gathered her wrists at the small of her back, keeping them there with his weaker hand.

She tugged and pulled at his hold but that did nothing to lessen it. She was well and truly caught.

The spanking began immediately, with no preamble, his big palm cracking loudly against her vulnerable bottom. But he didn't just stop there. Once he'd gotten that territory a nice shade of rosy red, he began to swat the underside of her behind, where thigh met bottom, his hand wide enough that several inches on either side were caught with each smack, too.

Mia was already beside herself, and he was just using his hand! There was still her own hairbrush to go! She kicked her legs, but he kept her so tilted over that raised leg of his that she couldn't kick hard enough to disrupt the methodical, predictable descent of that hand onto the vulnerable flesh of her backside.

When he finally stopped, Mia wanted to feel some sort of relief, but all she felt was dread, knowing that he was just reaching for an even more vicious implement.

She'd sworn to herself that she wouldn't do it, but she couldn't stop the words from flying past her sobbing lips. "No, Tom, pleeeaaassseeee!"

Every instinct he possessed wanted him to coddle and cuddle her and tell her that everything was going to be all right, that he'd make it right for her or die trying, But he steeled himself against that impulse and delivered the first swat with the same force with which he'd used his hand.

Her groan was almost too much for him, especially when it was followed by abject wails, but he grit his teeth and crisply delivered to her the number of swats he'd had in mind since she'd defied him - twenty in all - as she wept and cried and twisted and bucked, never once managing to avoid the fate he had decreed for her.

When it was over, he put the hairbrush aside on the bed, looking down at her angry, crimson behind and realized with a start that getting it that way had made him hard as a spike, despite the discomfort he knew she was in. Months ago he would have said that he could never have derived one ounce of pleasure from hurting her, and yet here he was with his insistent hard on poking up at her as she lay sobbing abjectly over his lap.

This was the time when he knew he could indulge in the instincts he'd shunned before in favor of punishing her, turning her over and gathering her up in his strong arms to scoot the both of them up to the top of the bed so that he could lean back against the headboard and begin the process of soothing her and reassuring her of the love he felt for her that swelled painfully in his chest.

It was a truly profound thing - this dominance and submission they were exploring - he was realizing, that touched on a lot of the barest, most primal emotions he'd ever experienced. He clutched her to his chest, brushing the hair away from her face, careful not to rest her weight on her bottom but taking all of it on himself instead - not that he noticed in the least - expending all of his considerable energy and attention to make her feel better, silently, in his heart, hoping she didn't hate him too much for what he'd done to her.

When the nose blowing abated and the hiccoughing sobs subsided, and she lay almost preternaturally still against him, he heard it. Her voice, hoarse from weeping, muffled by the way her face was buried against his shirt. He wasn't sure at first what she'd said, but within a few seconds after she'd said them, the words sank in with a stark clarity

"Thank you, Sir."

His entire body spasmed, and he was immediately milliseconds from his own culmination, unable to keep his hips from rocking up against her, seeking the warmth he knew she harbored only for him.

Tom cupped her cheek in his palm, kissing her breathlessly as he stared down into her eyes, letting the tears he had held at bay while punishing her flow down his cheeks.

Mia was devastated to see the anguish on his face. "Oh, Thomas, what's wrong? What's the matter? Are you okay?" She tried to struggle out of his arms but he couldn't let her, keeping her tight against him until she stopped trying to leave him.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry. I just - I don't think I'm a very good dom for you."

"Why would you say that, my beautiful man?"

He knew that when she said that, she was not referring to his outward appearance, but rather to his naked, vulnerable soul she said she could always see in his eyes. "It's just so hard to hurt you, Mia. It's so hard."

How could she - with her bottom singed to within an inch of its life, something he had deliberately done to her - be sitting there reassuring him so calmly? he wondered.

"I do know. That's why I thanked you." Brought perilously close to tears herself, she cleared her throat and blinked them back, knowing he needed her reassurance. "I love you, Thomas. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of the things you do that make me feel so treasured and cared for and loved - every one of them, and I know that there are more than I even realize, because you never want to blow your own horn."

He blushed, hearing his own earlier thoughts echoed in hers, and she kissed his hot, wet cheeks.

"But this is among the biggest things - the hardest things - you'll ever do for me. If our situations were reversed and you needed what I need from you, I don't know if I could do it, even for you, my love, and you are my world. I know what I'm asking of you goes against every fiber of your being, and that's what makes it so extraordinary that you can find the strength to do it, purely because of how much you love me. I know, Thomas, that it's only because of that love that you can put aside every instinct you own as a man and a person - for me."

She kissed the few tears that remained on his cheeks away. But he had one more vulnerability to confront. "And you truly don't hate me?" he whispered, not even able to look at her.

Mia broke away from him - barely - to reach for the button and zipper of his pants, until his hands came down to still hers.

"You don't have to do that."

She gifted him with a smile that couldn't possibly have come from someone who was secretly hating him. Placing his hands on her hips as she finished doing the minimum necessary to get at him, Mia straddled him, spreading her legs over his hips and guiding that broad, swollen head to her sopping wet entrance.

"Oh my God, you're so -"

"Wet," she finished for him as she sank - very slowly - onto him. She was so much smaller than he was - especially now - that accepting him into her body was always a challenge, but one she reveled in meeting every time she was presented with it.

Although his hands remained on her hips, he let her have complete control of how quickly he claimed her, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her with her head back, knowing that if his legs were bare he'd be able to feel the barest tips of her locks against his shins, his own mouth open as she bathed him not only in her juices but in the sounds of her efforts to take him within her, sighs and hitched breaths and enticing whimpers only serving to hinder her efforts as he felt himself grow within her because of them.

When she had taken the very last of him, feeling him poking insistently against her cervix, Mia realized, too, that she was glad for the money he'd spent on this expensive tux, as she sank down onto her still very sore behind onto that soft, silky material.

As they both panted, she stared into his eyes. "Do you think this is the act of a woman who is harboring any resentment towards you, my darling Thomas?"

Rather than answer her, rather than even to contemplate how the hell he managed to have gotten so lucky as to have her love him the way she did, he instead chose to cup one hand at the back of her neck, bringing her to him for a deep, hot, dueling tongued kiss while the other splayed at her mid-back, forcing her to offer her breasts up to him, which he claimed long moments later.

Mia insinuated her hands into his then brought them behind her and he took the hint immediately, trapping them there as she began to ride him, slowly at first, but then more wildly.

Tom looked down at the wanton woman that he had married and mentally counted his blessings as her hips writhed and rolled around him, head back, eyes closed, following the purest dictates of her body. But he wanted more from her. He wanted to hear her scream his name the way he knew she would once he'd forced her to yield herself to him more fully.

Seconds later he rose up, still deeply seated within her, one hand beneath her hips to steady her as he extended his long legs up towards the headboard so that their heads were near the edge of the bed and he was on top of her, where he could better control both of their pleasures.

She pouted prettily. "But I wanted to make you cum."

His grin was a hundred percent evil. "And so you shall, Miss Greedy. And so you shall."

She smiled back at him, biting her lip at the same time until he withdrew from her in one fluid motion, making her groan and grab at him, trying to take him back into her.

"Mia, stop."

She stilled immediately; her eyes seeking and finding his.

"Good girl. Lie back. I have to taste you or I'm going to go mad."

She keened at his words, a high pitched, mournful sound of unfulfilled desire, arching her hips, her head rolling back and forth restlessly.

When he'd dragged his lips and tongue down to just above her mound - finally - he reached out to take possession of hips that were undulating violently. "Stop."

Again, she obeyed him immediately, fists clenching and unclenching in the bedclothes as she fought to control that very basic need to move her hips until he captured each wrist and brought her palms to each breast. "Touch, baby. You know how I love to see you touch yourself."

Her eyes drifted shut as she made an unhurried exploration of herself, as if she'd never done it before, pinching and tugging each nipple in a way that was at once somehow soothing and very stimulating at the same time.

"That's it. God damn you're beautiful, Mia."

He arranged her legs so that they were spread even wider then hooked them over his back as he lay between them, staring down at the feminine delicacies before him and literally licking his lips just before he settled them over her clit and claimed her pussy with two fingers at the same time, her pleasure-agonized cry making him swell to unimaginable proportions against the duvet.

Mia was already right on the edge, but Tom wasn't the type to rush through loving his woman - in any way. He suckled at that bud as it burgeoned beneath his mouth, then kissed her everywhere else he could reach, licking and flicking, sucking and nibbling all of her, not just that little nub, but every bit of her, all while those fingers of his fucked her powerfully, the tips curling in against that special spot, making her whimper and cry and beg for a release he wasn't interested in giving her yet, despite the insistent demands of his own body.

He took his time making his way back to her clit, and before he did so he leaned back a little, removing his fingers and, hearing her mewl in protest, presenting three of them to her dripping quim as he pressed them inexorably up inside her, thoroughly enjoying every evidence she presented that this was challenging for her - at least as much as taking his cock was - and he loved every minute of it, until he was fully seated within her and began pulsing demandingly in and out.

Mia's hands beat an answering rhythm on the bed as her hips arched - making her gasp every time but still she did it - to meet his every thrust.

"Hands," he reminded softly and they beat even faster in protest until she put them where he required they be when he was loving her with his mouth, folding her arms beneath her where they would be less likely to interfere with whatever he wanted to do to her.

"Now," he whispered huskily into the relative silence of the room, his mouth pressed against her clit as he spoke, "you're not allowed to cum until I give you permission, right?"

Far from in her right mind, it took Mia a long moment to come to some semblance of coherence. "Yes, Tom," she barely breathed.

His broad, flat tongue licked lazily over her. "Ask me for permission, Mia, my darling, in the best way that you can so that I won't delay your pleasure even longer."

How could he expect her to cobble together a request that sounded like anything but gibberish when she could feel him lazily tonguing her as he awaited her response. "Mmmm . . . uh . . . ohhhhhhh . . . mmmmm . . . Puh-Please, Tom, may I cum, plleeaasssseee!"

He moved his mouth away, leaving her hanging, saying, "Tom?", knowing that, in teasing her, he was hurling himself towards oblivion, too, especially considering just how much he adored watching her writhe at his behest.

"Oh, uhhh . . . um . . . Puh-"

He opened his mouth wide and claimed her bud and then some with it, flicking the tip of his tongue against her clit mercilessly, knowing she had no hope of finishing her request, although he could hear just how close she was as she began to moan constantly, rocking her hips against him fervently.

Then all of those amazing sensations - even his fingers stretching her open to just shy of the point of discomfort - was gone. "I guess you're more interested in another spanking than cumming. I knew I left the paddle on the bed for some reason . . ."

His softly delivered threat had her screaming and crying at the same time, on the absolute edge of sanity. "Pleeaassee, Sir, please, please, please may I cum?"

She knew she didn't want to see the wicked smile that spread over his face at her words. "Of course, my love. All you had to do was ask me." Those fingers seemed even bigger than before as he reseated them in one thrust, pausing before placing his mouth over her clit to say, "Cum hard for me, Mia."

Her hips ground against his fingers as he used his strength to fuck her fast and hard.

But his lips had yet to claim her clit. 

"Open your eyes, baby. Let me see everything you are to me."

Mia lifted her head and stared at him, all of the frustration and passion and vulnerability and love laid bare within her gaze, which he held as he commanded, "Obey me, Mia mine. Cum hard."

His mouth found her again, finally, slowly, laving her, suckling at her, flicking that tender nub mercilessly until he felt her keen and moan and stiffen beneath him, chanting his name, mindlessly begging for mercy she did not want him to show her, and he didn't disappoint, not relenting in the least. He forced her to ride out that first tremendous orgasm with his mouth and hands in place, bullying her into the second one almost immediately, then pulling back and enjoying the four more he was able to coax from her before he sat up between her legs, seeing her lying there panting and whimpering and mindless from the ecstasy he brought her to, knowing her entire lower body was still contracting as he reached down to tug her hands from beneath her.

Tom slid himself into her, not wanting her to bear his weight on her arms but caught her hands immediately, his palms to the backs of hers, fingers laced intimately as he kept them captive while he fucked her impossibly hard, almost mindlessly, giving himself over to his own pleasure to finding it within the paradise of her pussy as he felt it pulsating around him even before he drove her to her seventh orgasm of the night and then, quickly, the eighth as he reached down between them to finger her clit, lifting her hips with one arm so that he could achieve an even deeper angle and making her cry out with it, knowing how much she adored his strength and how helpless it made her feel when he took her like this, when he was somewhat rough with her and much less concerned about her pleasure than he usually was brought her to a ninth - and final - screaming, heaving end beneath him.

His own culmination, when it came, was the most violent, most all consuming bliss he had ever felt in his life - he lost himself in her more completely than ever before, not sure where he ended and she began and not able to care much about it anyway.

Tom lay a top her much longer than he usually did, always concerned about being too heavy for her, but she clung to him, clutching at him when he made to move, and so he let her convince him to stay where he was - at least until he became human again instead of a big puddle of mush stretched out over her.

Eventually, though, nature called and, regretfully, reluctantly, he left her to go to the loo, and almost as soon as he got back, she barely scraped herself off the bed, stumbling into the bathroom like a zombie, eyes still closed, as if she couldn't bear to open them and deal with the starkness of reality.

When she opened the bathroom door, she knew he was there, leaning against the door jamb, even though she couldn't see him. She could feel him, feel his presence close to her in the way her body always reacted to his proximity.

He managed to surprise her by swinging her up into his arms, as if he worried about whether or not she'd be able to make it back to the bed. He sat her down on the edge of it, producing her favorite nightie and tugging it over her head, knowing she would sleep better in it and quite willing to sacrifice his own preferences in favor of whatever was best for her, even going so far as to pull a pair of clean panties up over her hips for her and then tucking her tootsies - which were already cold, he could feel - into the warm socks she liked before gathering her into his arms and spooning himself around her, under the warm duvet, holding her very tightly, as she preferred, and whispering not just into her ear but into her very consciousness, "You are the most magnificent woman on the face of this planet, my treasure. You have single-handedly rendered me deaf, blind and mute - and you know how hard it is to get me to stop talking." She giggled tiredly at that. "Sleep, baby. You've earned it."

Despite how exhausted he was, she fell asleep before he did. Tom lay awake for a while longer, unable to keep himself from touching her, proudly, possessively, glad she couldn't see the tears that wet his cheeks as he came to true grips with the fact that his entire world was here, contained within his arms, snoring softly.

 

Epilogue:

 

The next morning, when he turned on his phone again, it began to trill loudly as messages, emails and missed calls registered their alarms. He was headed for the door where someone was knocking rather insistently.

It turned out to be a package from Luke that contained all of the morning's tabloids, all of which featured - guess who - on the front. There she was, over his shoulder, in living color - if somewhat blurry but still unmistakably him, at least - with headlines that read out of a bad novel:

What's Gotten Into Everyone's Favorite Man Tom Hiddleston?

From Gentleman to Caveman 

Is This How He Treats His Wife?!

 

"Who was that?" Mia called from the bedroom.

"Luke sent us a package."

"Yeah? With what?"

"This morning's tabloids."

She halted in the act of walking towards him. "Oh, God. Is it as bad as I think?"

"Worse. We've got a name."

"A name?"

"Yeah, you know, like Bennifer and Brangelina."

She continued her path to him, ending up in his arms where she wanted to be, as they settled comfortingly around her.

"Wanna know what it is?"

"I don't think so," she muttered against his chest.

"Thomamia."

"Fuck me," she said, not sounding particularly worried.

Tom brought her just that much closer to him, throwing the papers into the air to land wherever the hell they wanted to and whispering against her ear, "What a lovely suggestion!" as he proceeded to herd her back into their bedroom.


End file.
